


Don't Forget Me, Dexter

by DarklyDreaming



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alcohol, Aliases, All the typical dexter things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Bad Decisions, Blood, Blood and Injury, Crazy, Dark, Dark Passenger, Death, Driving, Drugs, Drunkenness, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Freedom, Guns, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Interrogation, Knifeplay, Knives, Love, Murder, Not Canon Compliant, On the Run, POV First Person, Personal Growth, Police, Post Season 8, Reader-Insert, Recklessness, Road Trips, Romance, Rough Sex, Running Away, Serial Killers, Sex, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smoking, Smut, Strangers, Strangers to Lovers, Tragic Romance, True Love, Violence, bonnie and clyde - Freeform, sorry for all the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarklyDreaming/pseuds/DarklyDreaming
Summary: Your whole life has been spent in a small town in the Pacific Northwest, living by the same routine and waking up every morning to the same things. All the while, your heart has never ceased calling you to embrace your true self. Afraid of what might surface, you've suppressed that side of you to remain the "normal person" you knew you had to be.It isn't until a new, mysteriously intriguing face shows up in town and right in front of you, that your life -and mind- takes a drastic turn.Will you find yourself?Orloseyourself?
Relationships: Dexter Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Dexter Morgan/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 28





	1. The Sunday Usual

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! 
> 
> So this first person POV reader-insert series started as a little one shot (the first chapter) that I had in my head once I finished the series finale. I didn't have any intention of going any further, but an idea arose and I thought I would for fun!  
> It's a bit different for me, and while I tried to be as canon as possible, I just kind of went where my heart took me for it and decided to share it. This is just based on the show and takes place a little time after season 8 ep. 12.. So, just take it for what it is if you do decide to read it, because it's just the weirdness that rolls around up in my head at 2AM lol.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I probably won't post any more of it unless someone wants me to, so please let me know if you like it enough! :)
> 
> Thank you! <3

He came in every Sunday. 

While his usual collective of groceries always changed, he almost always picked up a can of coffee, a case of beer and a couple of steaks. When he first showed up, I immediately knew he wasn’t from around my small town. I assumed he was visiting from another place, imagined it to be somewhere warmer than anywhere in Washington, especially at the notice of his lightly tanned skin and clean appearance. But when he showed up again the next Sunday, and then the Sunday after that, I almost felt bad for him. I’d dreamt of leaving this place my whole life, but he seemed to have gotten stuck here somehow. 

I ran the local grocery shop at the edge of town, it was my parent’s shop before they passed and it was really all I had left to keep myself together. They trusted me with their pride and joy, the only thing that kept us afloat in good times and bad. I supposed they really had no choice but to trust me— I was their only child. 

When he came in, he always looked as though he’d had a long day; ginger scruff around his jaw and cheeks, hair a little longer and disheveled than it had been the first day I saw him. It was a logging town, though, so I wasn’t exactly surprised to see his appearance become this way over time. He was always polite. Never said much to anyone, never really looked at anyone. He picked up what he needed, paid his bill and left. 

And each time he slipped through the door, the sound of the bell at the top letting me know he was gone, I looked forward to the next Sunday I’d see him again. He was the small bit of mystery and intrigue I had in my life each week. It gave me the slightest thrill to imagine a backstory for him every time he walked in; The secluded prince, here on a whim to feel normal. The once-chic playboy taking over his fathers work for a change. The secret spy, come to find what he’d been searching years for. All completely made up, all completely psychotic to ever believe to be true. 

In the months that passed by, I never caught his name, didn’t strike up any conversation. While he didn’t seem unfriendly, something told me he just wanted to be left alone. He always paid in cash, and it would’ve been obvious for me to card him when he was clearly over twenty-one. I left him alone despite my burning curiosity. 

But this Sunday, as I waited for my usual customer, he was nowhere to be found. 

I felt silly for wondering if he was okay. We didn’t know each other from the next person, and while I could give a general description, I never stared long enough to possibly even pick him out of a line up Regardless, I was worried that maybe something had happened to him. After all, it had been months worth of gloomy Sundays that my mystery shopper showed his face. It crossed my mind to wonder if he’d ever miss my feathery presence should I disappear one Sunday. 

The rain fell against the foggy window and I picked at my nails, a nervous habit I developed in my childhood. My line of sight shifted from another weekend customer I was waiting on to walk up to the counter to pay for his items, and then back to the door. Rain always made for a slow day, and it was almost always raining. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to scream at me. While he never stopped in at the same time every Sunday, he was always here by three o’clock. It was two-fifty-five. 

“I’m ready to check out, {Y/N},” the other usual guest finally said, jolting me out of my mile-long stare at the door. 

“Right,” I smiled. “How’s Mary doing?” I asked him. 

“Oh, just fine. You know her, knitting away. Do you happen to need another scarf?” 

“You know, Frank, I could use another. Maybe a deep red this season,” I smiled, clutching delicately at my decolletage and ringing him up at his usual discount as we continued our small exchange of pleasantries. 

Small town. Small talk. Small hobbies. Small lives. Big hearts, though. I always appreciated that. I’d always heard that big cities lacked that kind of thing and I wasn’t sure what I would do without a little compassion. Everyone was so kind when my parents got into the car wreck that took their lives going into town one evening. I became everyone's little orphan Annie in a sense. But I was grateful to have been fed for weeks on end, even if it was casseroles and soups. 

Once I bagged his groceries, I slid the brown paper bag across the counter towards him and looked back at the clock. Three-o-five.

“You look anxious,” Frank noticed, picking up his groceries and making his way to the door. “Try a cup of chamomile when you get home tonight. It’ll calm you right down.” 

A small laugh escaped me. “Will do,” I assured him. 

But right as he opened the door, I spoke again. 

“Hey, Frank..?”

He turned around to face me, doorknob still in hand. 

“Do you— Well.. Have you ever seen a man come in here on Sundays— Reddish hair, ye tall…” I stood on my tip-toes and lifted my hand in the air at an attempt at measuring how I remembered his height. I was barely five feet, and he seemed a giant. “..Real quiet?”

His silver brow furrowed under his black rimmed glasses, I could see the cogs turning behind them to answer my question.

“Don’t believe I have, {Y/N}.. Why’s that?”

I stood back on my heels, bringing my hands together in front of me as I picked at my nails again and nodded once, quietly inhaling a jagged breath. 

“Just wondering..” I forced an airy tone. “Like I said, he usually shows up every—“

Before I had time to finish my sentence, my mystery shopper appeared in the doorway right behind Frank, stopping to let him through when he finally decided to turn back around. 

I hoped he hadn’t heard me as I exhaled my once sharp breath smoothly in relief. 

“Never mind,” I said softly. “Have a good evening.” 

Frank turned around with a confused smile, jumping slightly when he saw my Sunday usual standing in his way. 

“Now, if he doesn’t look like the boy you just described, I don’t know who does!” He exclaimed before exiting my shop, stepping aside to let the flannel clad man in first before closing the door behind him and leaving us both in the embarrassed silence I melted into. 

My jaw clenched and I dreaded looking up at him. To my surprise when I did, he was smiling at me. 

“I’m a little late,” he bowed his head just a centimeter, opening his palms at his sides before moving further in to pick up his groceries. 

I swallowed hard, forcing my blush to stay hidden deep beneath my skin. 

“I see you every Sunday, I was just hoping you didn’t get lost or something this time,” I joked. 

“Long day,” he responded from the back of the small building. “Time got away from me.”

“I know how that is,” I sighed, grabbing a towel and wiping up some of the water that had dripped onto the counter from Frank’s produce. 

“It doesn’t seem like this place picks up much,” he responded, his tone slightly monotonous, but friendly.

Shrugging to myself, I played with the towel in my hands. “It doesn’t.. That’s what makes it even worse. Some days I just want to run away.” 

There was a lengthier silence as I turned around to put some of the cleaning supplies I’d used earlier away. His deep voice seemed to linger in my head like a phantom echo. I realized I hadn’t heard him speak much other than a muttered ‘thank you’ at the end of our transactions. It was a bit gruff despite being so withdrawn, a register that hooked my ear immediately— something I wasn’t expecting. 

“That’s too bad,” his voice was closer then as he stood on the other side of the counter, surprising me a bit.

I stood up and turned around to face him, taking the items he’d placed on the counter to ring them up without making eye contact. 

“It wouldn’t be the same if someone else checked me out every Sunday.” 

Not realizing I was smiling, I breathed a soft laugh through my nostrils. “I won’t go anywhere then. I’d hate to let my public down.” 

My {E/C} eyes caught his for just a second. Long enough to notice how green they were against the color of his skin, complemented beautifully by the color of his shirt. He was smiling again. Not beaming, in fact his eyes weren’t involved much at all, but his lips curved just enough to disarm me. His comment wasn't flirtatious by any means, but the sentiment still awakened a small stirring within me.

Once I gave him the total, he handed me the cash and I handed over the paper bag, this time just consisting of steak and coffee, no beer, along with some other various items. 

We lingered for just a moment, as though we each had something more to say, but weren’t sure of exactly what. 

“Have a great evening….” I trailed off softly, so softly if we weren’t the only two in the store he might not have heard me. 

“..Dean,” he completed my sentence hesitantly, picking up on my hint to know his name. 

“{Y/N},” I responded, whether he was curious about mine or not. 

“I won’t be late next time, {Y/N},” he poked fun at me, lifting his brows with another faint smile before taking the bag and heading for the door. I noticed his expressions looked forced in a way, as though it was hard for him to muster so much as a smile. My mind wandered as to why that might be the case as I heard each footfall trail further away from me. 

The bell rang as the door opened and closed once more, and I couldn’t wait to see him again next Sunday. 


	2. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback and kudos! I'm so glad that my odd little story was entertaining enough. <3   
> Can't wait to continue!

Thunder rolled outside of my little shop, creating a cozy haven of the small space. I watched as lightning left jagged edges through the gray and black sky, leaving a trail of shadowy light in its place just as quickly as it happened. There was something gloomier about this Sunday than usual, something I couldn’t place despite the storm. 

The conversation I’d had with Dean was the only thing that ran through my mind all week, and despite knowing he only showed face on Sundays, I found myself hoping he’d come in sooner for once. 

Alas, he did not. 

On the rare occasion I wasn’t thinking about my Sunday visitor, I was trying to keep from pulling my hair out of my head. Washington had worn on me more than I’d have liked to admit. It wasn’t that I hated it, but I was itching for change more and more as the days drew on. There was a great big world outside of my little logging town. Why on earth would I stay? My parents were gone.. I had no siblings. The rest of my family managed to leave for other states. Even other countries. I was the only stagnant one. I was the only  _ dumb _ one. 

_But Dean_ , I thought. 

I regrouped, bringing myself back to earth. 

More like Frank and Mary and the scarves they loved to gift me. Or Charlie, and his daughter, Haley, who I saw every Tuesday and occasionally babysat for when Charlie had to haul a shipment to another town. 

But as I restocked a bucket of apples, I wondered how far the apple I held in my small hand had actually traveled. I’d never left my town. The small, inanimate object had traveled more than I probably ever would. Probably from somewhere nice, like New York or California, even though we had our own orchards. The longer I stared at it, the more I felt my blood boil. My parents hadn’t thought to prepare me to venture out into the world before they passed. They never encouraged me to explore new avenues or find myself. I watched shows and films and dreamt of being able to be like Carrie from Sex and the City or Audrey Hepburn when she escapes her usual routine in Roman Holiday. The mess that was Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s was a dream to me. Instead, my parents left me in one place with the grocery store that I once loved, and now found myself beginning to hate. Resentment had reared its ugly head more often than not, despite my wishing it wouldn't. I loved my parents, but I felt slighted. 

I could feel my cheeks growing warmer by the second. My fingers gripped the apple tighter until I reeled my arm back and chucked it at the wall with an exasperated groan of anger and hurt. 

A small glitch in the perfect image that had become me. Around town I was known as the nice girl with no parents. ‘She’d never harm so much as a fly,’ they said about me. ‘She’s always so sweet- so shy, poor thing. Such a shame.’

“Everything okay?” I heard Dean’s voice. 

A nanosecond couldn’t have been as quick as the time it took me to regain my composure and turn to face him as though nothing happened. 

“It was spoiled,” I mumbled, swallowing hard and picking up the crate to dump the rest of the apples into the bucket. “I hate spoiled produce.”

His brow arched, his expression clearly revealed he didn’t believe me, or was completely weirded out by me at the very least. 

“It’s not the apple's fault,” he said again, moving towards the coffee. 

A hint of teasing could be heard in his low voice. I walked back to the register with the empty crate and set it aside, looking at the clock. He wasn’t late. Just like he’d promised. But it did bother me that I hadn’t noticed the bell when he walked in. How long had he been there, watching me death-glare at a piece of fruit? Still, there was no denying I was happy to see him. Even happier that we’d officially passed our point of simple silence between clerk and customer. 

“You know what they say, one bad apple..”

“Ruins the bunch,” he finished for me.

Noticing he walked past the coffee, I allowed my eyes to discreetly follow him, staying quiet then. This time, he headed for the small assortment of energy drinks my shop carried and grabbed a few of them. There seemed to be a different kind of pep in his step, a sort of saturnine hopefulness to his entire demeanor as he walked towards the assortment of snacks next. I hadn’t noticed my facial expression slowly twisting into confusion and curiosity as I wondered what he was picking up  _ those _ things for after purchasing almost the same few items every Sunday for months.

When his body began to shift towards the register I pretended to busy myself with an inventory paper that sat on the counter, only peering up once he stood before me. 

“Looks like you’re going on a road trip,” I pried subtly, ringing the items up a bit slower than usual. 

“I am,” he responded.

Instinct stopped me in my movement and forced me to look him dead in the eye; coerced a feeling of panic to rise in my throat— which was already sore from holding back tears from my red-delicious breakdown.

“You’re leaving?” I almost squeaked. “Didn’t you tell me not to go anywhere just last Sunday?” 

I tried to keep my tone playful on the second question. The last thing I wanted was to come off as some crazy secret admirer. But when I saw the faint smile tug at his lips, I felt slightly more at ease, no matter what he thought of my sudden interest in his departure. 

“It’s only a short trip. I’ll be back.”

But something told me in the way he said it, that he wouldn’t be back. 

**Fear** . 

I felt fear. 

Why did I feel fear?

I’d always had a strange streak that even I couldn’t understand. I was always a bit too hopeful, a bit too drawn to darkness, even in moments where I didn’t realize I’d been drawn to it until it was too late. 

As I looked up at Dean, I realized that I’d already become too attached to the mystery that surrounded him— to the fact that he was the only exciting thing that I had to look forward to. He was new and interesting, like a gift that you’ve been instructed not to open until a certain date.

And that only glimmer of life in my dull two-shack town was leaving me. My heart told me he wasn’t coming back to dazzle me with the unknown anymore. For once, something new and stirring had been plopped right into my life. And now almost as quickly as it came in, it was about to disappear. Things like that and people like him didn’t happen outside of the books I’d read and movies I’d watched.

I just didn’t realize how much I relied on the small weekly affair until it was buying road trip snacks from me to turn away and never look back. 

Even if he did plan to come back, fear gripped me.

My mind assured me he was gone for good. It wasn't the lively, thrilling sensation that I was used to feeling in my stomach when he walked in that I was dealing with now. It was sheer panic, bubbling and rising into my throat. 

There were things that made me feel alive that I didn’t know how to react to. Most, if not  _ all _ of my life, I’d suppressed feelings and thoughts; ideas and daydreams. Things that good girls and happy townspeople didn’t accept as normal or natural. I often dreamt of unlocking my freedom; embracing the fiery and passionate side that (could clearly be set off by something as little as a piece of produce) lurked within me; of being able to be who I wanted to be, as freely and unabashedly as the celluloid characters I’d grown up admiring. 

But who would want to deal with a moody girl who liked the idea of trouble, just because it was different and exhilarating? Who became attached to and obsessed with darkness because she saw that same darkness within herself? Who was afraid of finding out who she really was, in fear of never being able to return to what she’d always felt she had to be? Who was damaged but not quite broken; who felt a magnetic pull to others who were just as marred?

Nobody.

That’s who. 

So supressed it all remained. 

All through daisy-fresh childhood. All through confused adolescence. 

All the time.

The man who stood before me was elusive and secretive. Of course it was now clear as day that I’d already taken quite the liking to the little I knew about him. And perhaps that  _ was _ the reason why—  _ because _ I knew so little. 

My heart pounded. The thought of the only thrill I had in this world fading off into the distance put me in a strange place. And while I knew I needed to get a grip, (cue the image of me shaking myself by the shoulders: “What on earth are you thinking? Better yet, what  _ aren’t _ you?!”) there was a mental block that would not allow me to let it go and react the way any normal person would, by saying goodbye and calling it a day. Desperation seeped from the corners of my mind that even I hadn’t explored yet. 

“Where ya headed?” I asked, trying to keep myself as emotionally withdrawn as possible before things got catastrophic at the hands of a meltdown that not even I would fully understand. 

I really was hanging by a thread these days. 

“Florida,” he stated, lifting his brows and offering a lighter facial expression. “ _Miami_ ,” he drew out then. 

I stopped ringing up his items, a bag of chips crunching under my fingers as I looked up at him. 

“Miami? I have family in Miami.” 

My eyes stayed on his as though I was expecting something to come from what I said, though I wasn’t even sure what that was. His eyes flashed from mine to the crumpled bag in my tense hand. 

Bringing myself back to earth, I looked down and loosened my grip on his bag of chips slowly, exhaling with a forced smile. 

“Sorry.. I’m sure they’re fine,” I pushed myself to say, plopping them into his bag without ringing them up. It was the least I could do, they were definitely just crumbs now.

“I just haven’t seen her in awhile.. My cousin— Lila, is there. Well.. Last I heard, anyway. I haven’t spoken to her since I was around fourteen. She was my favorite. Always on the go, never a dull moment. We wrote to each other a lot, she’d always send me post cards and trinkets, little paintings she’d done of her travels..”

I stopped, shaking my head then. Did I expect him to care? He didn’t need my life story. I rang up the fourth and final Red Bull and gave him the total. At a quick glance, it looked as though he’d been tensed up himself as I spoke. His jaw was rigid and his eyes were on me intently before his demeanor relaxed again as our gazes met. More and more I saw that relaxing seemed foreign to him; a challenge he didn't know how to meet. 

“Anyway, I’d love to see Miami one day,” I finished quietly. 

A few beats passed. 

“I’m sure you’ll see it one day,” he said cooly, practically ignoring everything else I had to say. 

My expression held mock amusement as I slid his bag of goodies towards him. 

“If only that were true,” I sighed. “I think I’d have better luck if I hitched a ride with you.”

He hummed, reaching for his wallet in his pocket. A slight hesitation hung between us until he broke the silence again with a flat tone in his voice- something else I immediately noticed was his withdrawn way of being.

“You’d be surprised what life can throw at you.”

The element of surprise was what brought me to this point, I thought. But as he opened his wallet, panic welled up inside of me again. He was going to walk out of that door and I was going to go back to nothingness day in and day out. I would no longer have even just the mysterious man who showed his face once a week. But maybe that was what I needed in order to get by and be like everyone else. 

To let go of whatever little fantasy I’d clutched onto without knowing it. 

But it was also that statement alone that poured from his lips like honey that trapped me; grasped me back up into its clutches. Something told me he knew of what he spoke, as though there was so much more behind him than even the dumb little scenarios I’d allotted for him in my mind every Sunday afternoon. I was inwardly dying to know what those things were. 

Perhaps I  _ was _ a textbook case of a sheltered girl who’d become attached to anything that might take her away from her stagnant life. Either way, I quickly found myself uncaring of that. 

And suddenly it was like my sanity had slipped away from me all at once, and someone new and interesting took over the body I was simply encapsulated in. I could almost see myself standing in place instead of being present in the small vessel I inhabited. In my mind, my eyes were wide with something akin to horror as I watched my own lips move, silently begging myself to stop as I spoke words that couldn’t be felt on my tongue.

“In that case, let me come with you,” I heard myself say all too seriously. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure about Lila being the readers cousin thing, but my sleep deprived mind said go for it, lol.  
> Thanks for reading!! Next chapter coming soon <3


	3. Autopilot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in! I took a small (safe) vacation and didn't have my laptop with me but I'm back now! :)  
> This one was a little short, but I hope you enjoy it all the same! <3

There was a silence. 

Rushing back to my consciousness just as swiftly as I’d departed it, I dared to lock my {E/C} eyes with his. A hint of disbelief laced his features, anyone could tell. Any sane, polite, _normal_ person would’ve immediately retracted the statement— played it off as some kind of imposing joke. But the elusive part of me that wanted to act on impulse, to push myself out of my box and out of the small town I’d known my whole life, reared her gloriously stubborn head and did not allow  _ me _ to do so. Instead, she took Dean’s statement to heart and looked up at this mystery shopper with grimly hopeful doe-eyes; heart racing beneath her ribcage, palms growing a bit damp, chest rising and falling even though she felt as though she was holding her breath, holding the moment between them with a gun to its head. 

Forcing him into standing by what he’d said. 

Even if he hadn't exactly meant it so seriously. 

I would've never expected the impolite side of me to thrust its way to the surface, but something about the entire situation I now found myself in caused her unrelenting presence. 

Cue another mental image: Brash-me wrapping her long nailed fingers over my mouth from behind like some kind of looming succubus, a sinister grin on her lips as rational-me stared terrifiedly so into Dean’s eyes. 

His brow furrowed, his hand reaching to grab the back of his neck once he handed me the money to pay his bill. He didn’t seem to be a man of many words- especially when it came to me and our situation, anyway. But what was I really expecting? We didn’t know each other really at all. 

“Uh—“ he inhaled. 

I took the money from his fingers, putting it into the drawer. I didn’t say another word, not retracting nor furthering my request. Though to say I wasn’t furthering it was a loaded statement. By not retracting it, I was furthering it.

He, however, seemed to suddenly be battling an internal conflict. His face offering only hints of expression as he looked anywhere but at me. It was as though he were waiting for me to begin laughing, or offer a small snicker at what he hoped was a joke; _any_ indication that it was, in fact, just a gag. The rational girl knew this. The impulsive one didn't care.  I assumed his quarrel also had to do with the fact that a strange girl had just pushed her way into his road trip, but something not too far on the forefront was keeping him from flat out denying her request. I didn’t bother to think about what that could be. Deep down, I just wanted him to say yes, no matter how awkward or uncomfortable the situation would be. 

_She_ needed this. _I_ needed this.

“Sure…..” he drew out. 

Oh, by now I was  _ positive _ he was praying that I’d say “just kidding!”

However much I wanted to say “No, I couldn’t,” or “Are you sure?” or “I  _ was _ just kidding!” my tongue couldn't find the words. It refused to. 

Cue the succubus again, but pulling the trigger on the idea this time. 

It was then that I looked around the small shop that my parents left me to assure my quiet life; to assure my security financially and through routine. It was quaint as ever, a sweet little indication of their love and care for me. But it just didn’t quite satisfy the way I thought it would forever when it first came into my possession. And any chance to finally leave, see the rest of the United States, maybe even the world if the cards allowed, if only for a little while, was about to come true. 

My parents would be held in my memory until I made my return, I decided. 

I was brought back to my senses, but the deed had been done— the phantom contract signed in thick, red proverbial blood. I was ready to leave it all behind, and he was oddly willing to allow me my dream of doing so.  Traveling the open road with a stranger, a man who might’ve been some kind of Manson Family murderer was the exact opposite of playing it safe, and certainly the exact opposite of what my parents would’ve wanted. 

But something about that very notion thrilled me near to tears. It played to the part of me that I’d suppressed for years more than I'd like to admit. It was wildly surprising and titillating at the same time to feel that side emerge from its cave, rise from her coffin in something other than a small lapse in judgement thanks to an insignificant fruit or or an extra muddy day. Whatever I was becoming, I was ready to embrace. Maybe a bit hesitant, even slightly frightened, but ready. 

Willing.

Able. 

Back on the mystifying autopilot, I opened the drawer and drew his money back out of it, sliding it over to him before emptying the rest of the bills in the drawer into my hand and tucking the wad away into my top. The coins jingled in their metal compartment when I closed it shut again and locked it, pulling the key ring that held that particular key amongst many from the keyhole and shoving it into my back pocket.

“When are we leaving?” I asked rather nonchalantly, as though I hadn't just held him hostage about this trip; as though the decision was completely mutual and I'd known him for years. 

Walking around the counter, I didn’t bother looking over at him, the rational half of me afraid that if I did, he might change his mind and end my potion of the trip before it even started. Plucking a bag of pretzels from the aisle, I made my way to the fridge and grabbed a Coke Zero.

He turned around then, leaning back against the counter and watching me make my way back up to the door, just a tad more eager seeming than he had been. He looked tense though, his frame seemed almost rigid, as though _he_ wanted to shake me and ask why I was ruining his good time. I sensed there was something more to this trip, not that my vilely disconnected side even bothered to ask _wh_ y he was going to Miami... But the damaged girl in me cared not. In fact, she almost liked to see the annoyance she caused. She knew it meant he felt something in regards to her. Good or bad. Feelings were feelings. 

_ God.. Why did it matter? Who am I? _

“You sure about this? It’s a long way..” he finally said, his rough voice leveling out.

My heart sunk, the wild girl falling away as though she turned to shattered glass and spilled across the tile flooring. But when I looked up, there was a glimpse of amusement in his light, yet dark eyes instead of the disapproval I thought I’d see. It was relieving as I felt the pieces of glass poke and prod their way back together over my exterior. Examining the Coke Zero and the pretzel bag in either of my hands, my shoulders lifted in a shrug, the top of my sweater revealing bare skin. 

“What do I really have to lose? So I’m closed down for a couple of weeks or so.. It’s not a big deal. Everyone will just have to get their groceries somewhere else.”

Considering I was the only grocery store for what felt like miles, the compassionate side in me tried her best to break through and remind me that it wouldn’t be right to just leave without someone else running the store in my absence. 

She was very much ignored. 

“I just need to go home first and get some clothes packed,” I spoke again, leaning over and plucking an apple from the bucket I’d stocked earlier. 

“Everything is going to spoil..!” my reasonable side screamed at me. 

I shut her down again, turning my attention back to my once-Sunday-stranger. I wasn’t exactly confident, but faking it was easier than I thought when a new adventure was on the line. 

Dean looked around, breathing an empty laugh with a faint smirk. It felt like an awfully comfortable move to make to someone he didn’t know. But I guessed at that point, we’d just become more than only someone we didn’t know to each other. He took the bag I’d uselessly rung up for him and shook his head as though he couldn’t believe what he was doing. As though this were something normal to  _ me _ that  _ he _ now had to contend with. His gait was self-assured as he walked toward the door, too, opening it up as I stood beside it. 

The bell on the top sounded different this time. It was clearer, but harsh, almost ghostly in its chime. It felt like an omen of what was to come as he exited my shop, but I refused to believe it to be that. With a quick glance around and a flick of the lights, I followed suit, shivering slightly in the chill of the falling rain as the thunder rolled around the sky like marbles on a table. Pulling my keys from my back pocket, my hand trembled almost undetectably while I pushed the key into the knob to lock up, turning it with a carelessness and a silent prayer to no one in particular that I’d be back soon in one piece, and that this was simply any ode to finding my freedom and living my life. As the knob clicked, I felt a strange pang of fear again— this time in the pit of my stomach. This was what I wanted to do. It was vastly out of my comfort zone, sure, but I made this decision. In fact, I forced this decision upon him as well. My {H/C} fell around my face as I gave a small shake of my head at my self-induced anxiety. 

Suddenly my impulsive side was nowhere to be found. Silent as fresh falling snow.

Chalking it up to nerves or the unknown, I pushed the feeling aside. I wanted an experience of a lifetime, something that never happened in real life. I got my chance now, and I wasn’t going to blow it. Other than the shop, I didn't have much to return to. No parents, no kids, no boyfriend or husband. Not even a dog or a cat. I only had myself to please now. I'd rather die than miss the opportunity.

Still, the sensation of fear coursed in my veins no matter how hard I tried to subdue it. This beautifully mysterious man was responsible for me now, and not by his choosing.

But I was ready to face whatever that could mean for me in the long run. 


End file.
